The fire dreams in its iron bed, cozy in the metal that glows. Her flames transform the wood into the most transient of beauties, hot ribbons of light. There are times it sparks, as if it wanted more than one crazy way to dance, as if it needs to leap, to fly, willing to land where it may.

It was the ice in Micha's heart that lead him to set fires. All his life he'd been an unwelcome parcel shunted between overcrowded foster homes. Then on a cold day last October he'd discovered he could burn things, destroy things. At first he just kept a match book in his pocket and would strike them while he sat on the swings, watching the obedient flame flicker in the breeze, blackening the wood, transforming it to charcoal at his command. An uncontrollable grin would spread across his malnourished features that did not reach his eyes. Soon he graduated to burning trinkets of his adversaries, often times the flame would be a different hue or emit copious black smoke that choked him. He graduated to dousing his items in nail polish remover to accelerate the burning. For that brief moment in time that the flames leapt, devouring feverishly, he became tranquil. The blackened remains satisfied him only momentarily, then he craved it all the more. Now he fondled The List...

Fire is the most beautiful weapon of them all. It shines with all its glory; maybe that's why I'm so attracted to it? The warmth along with the welcoming feel it gives but as you slowly approach it snarls and bites. Everything you love could be gone in minutes, due to a single nip. That's why you're like fire. So warm, so beautiful, so welcoming. The human embodiment of fire. I turned my gaze for a minute and everything I loved was gone. All I loved. You.

Almost as soon as the lightning had struck the tree, the world became illuminated. In the distance, I could see thick gray smoke billowing into the skies. The once pale blue sky is now shielded by a veil of darkness as the smoke swallows up the whole sky. Fierce fire could be seen sneaking their way out from the rows of trees.

Smouldering, fire licked the bottom of the wooden post like a hungry kitten with a saucer of milk, crackling, playful, gentle at first, fire flickered, flared, leapt, spat, shower of sparks like a fountain, plumes of black grey smoke, wound itself around the post like a great hungry serpent, devoured everything in it's path, choking clouds of noxious smoke, inferno, blazing, out of control, ash floating to the ground like great dirty flakes of snow, showering onto everything, sprinkling onto the ground.

The glowing embers leaped and twirled in a firery dance, twinkling like stars in the hot swirling air before cascading to earth like gleeful fire fiends, setting alight the tinder dry forest of high August.

Flickering, weaving under the spell it was sparked into. A shrieking ray of melting gas purges out of the flame's capturing heat. It can be told that once the strongest of cornerstones were illuminated into molten when in communion of such a harmful object of division but only the purest could make its identity out as courage, sound mind. It holds the power to give to anyone a harness of strong armies and a hope of a new beginning.

A plume of fire exploded into the blackness, the flame rolling outwards like the smoke of a mushroom cloud. The idea of the firefighters rushing in was ludicrous, it was an inferno fuelled by the gallons of accelerant in the warehouse. The heat was oppressive even from two hundred yards away. The onlookers had been excited at first, snapping pictures to upload to friends and generally behaving like a crowd on bonfire night. But then a subtle shift in the wind direction brought noxious smoke and ash raining down into their hair and eyes. With hands and clothing clamped to their mouths they fled to their upmarket cars. It was chaos as they all tried to leave at once, honking their horns and struggling to see through the grey debris that coated their windshields.

The fire devoured the kerosene in a flash of scorching flame and soon began to burn the furniture it had been daubed on. Thick black clouds of smoke choked the air. The fire alarm stood useless on the counter where Martin had put it. He meant them to die in their beds from the noxious smoke, and if not they would die on the upper landing for he had soaked the stair carpet too. The fire would be too quick, too ferocious for the fire fighters to get there in time. In the morning the house would be ash and he would be free.

I watched the ever burning fire that blazed outside of my window, in the streets. I could not breath, nor could I hear my heart in my chest I was alive watching everything burn. What once was beautiful cracked and wilted under the weight of the weightless fire. The bright turned black and ascended in the air in dark gray plumes of darkness, and misery. Carrying the dreams and lives of many to another place far beyond the stars. No matter how much effort was given, the fire didn’t cease it’s reign of terror. I could not run, nor could I scream. I only watched as they burned. My home, my family, everything. There flesh turned black as fire ate greedily at their mangled faces and torn backs. There was no escaping it, the pain, and death it caused, and the dreams it stole.

The match used to start the fire was now just a cold lump of dust in my hand that flew away with the wind. The cracked wood that held this building together had taken to the fire immediately. Shining through the clouds the moon illuminated the flames. Shadows danced against the tree trunks, bringing the whole forest alive whilst the spindly fingers of the trees reached out grasping the night air.

The fire flashed into existence in a wash of red and yellow sparks. Like the beauty of running water so unearthly. Yet it has a dangerous beauty. They fire leaping up, picking up speed like a river does tributaries. The fire held its head up regally and proudly as its destruction spread while glowering at the surrounding daring them to challenge its awesome power. It ate everything in its path. Yellow, red and orange. The colours of autumn; yet can autumn cause so much destruction. A person stood entranced by its beautiful depths. It seemed like a women bringing him closer. The fire licked at his out reached arm causing searing and a smell of burning flesh as it crept him his hand bringing him out of his reverie. Yellow, red and orange the colours in autumn.

The wind caught the fire and pushed it at an enormous speed down the hill towardus. There were three of us in this team, and they sent us to dig a fire ditch. I heard the flame catch before I looked up the hill. Jamie yelled, "Run for the river."He ran as he was speaking, and both Phil and I followed closely. We jumped the "break ditch," and after that, logs and downed limbs. Jamie fell in front of us. Phil and I stopped quickly to upright him, but he couldn't walk; his ankle was broken, and bleeding. I put him in the fireman's carry, and moved quickly toward the stream. My leg and arms ached from the one hundred and eighty pound human load. Jamie wanted me to run faster, but my muscles could not do any more. We reached the edge of the river. "Jamie, can you swim?""I'll manage." I helped him into the water. I jumped behind him. Phil splashed next. We swam to the other side. The fire stopped at the river. We felt the heat from 70 yards away.

He stood alone in the fiery night, bright colours dancing, tattooing then changing before his eyes. He observed, each time he watched the flames leap and hiss, always reaching feverishly out for him, trying desperately to grab and hold onto his fleeting shadow. And oh, how beautifully they swayed, beckoning him, enticing him, and each time he looked away. But this time he took a step, and reached out with his pale hand and let it be immersed under the raging flames. And he let the blazing lips kiss his hands.

The flame turned her skin a brilliant shade of blue, spitting it's rage as the wind came through in rapid bursts. It was dancing for them, or so it seemed, showering their vision in blues, reds, and oranges. But no one shied away from the precious heat, the strokes of color on the black canvas behind. This certain fire was like a mirror, for they were the same, bursting as life took its unexpected turns. Blooming as they were given more to thrive under. And then, one day they would all fade away, into golden embers. The dying of a fire that used to shine so brightly.

That moment when you put your hands a few inches away from the flickering flames. A tall, roaring fire taking up the fireplace, warming your entire body that is merely a handbreadth away. You inhale the smokey scent and blink rapidly as ash stings your eyes. The heat is warming your body, calming your nerves, and emptying your mind of worries. This is your definition of home.

Crimson anger arose from the burning blaze. Struggling to stay lit all the fury burst out as if it devoured the wood hungrily expressing all its rage and wrath. Smoke released out of its flames and boyishly danced around the abanded room trying the dispose all its anger from within. The small humble flame, that sat in the corner of the room, lit up its surroundings will fury pouncing out of it. The fire flickered like the vicious tongue of a snake poised in hatred waiting to strike. Suffocated, suffocated, suffocated in the fireplace trying to escape.

"They watched from a secluded clearing as the once great manse went up in flames. The sight was eerily beautiful in the predawn light. . . The flames leaped and danced as they consumed, radiantly beautiful in their destruction. Fresh embers jumped and spread ever higher until the entire structure was engulfed in a blazing, explosive inferno. Then they watched as, piece by piece, it crumbled to the ground. The fire left only ashes in its wake, grey and empty, to be blown away on the wind."

This was not just fire. It was death. It was a giant wave, a fire storm, rolling in on itself, undulating like some grotesque creature hell-bent on our murder. And it was hurtling towards us at staggering speed.

The bright, menacing flame was even visible from a distance. I watched in upmost horror as I witnessed the fire swallow the entire building. Toxic fumes shot up into the air every few seconds and the thick, poisonous smoke choked everyone in its wake.

I watch the deep flames of the enraged fire through the minute holes in the itchy sack covering my head. I can’t breathe, nor can I hear even the simplicity of my heart racing in my chest. I am only able to watch everything burn around me without action. What was once beautiful wilted and cracked under the ferocity of the flames, turning to ash and dust. I continued to choke and splutter under the thick sack, my struggling ceasing. I have no energy to even keep my head from drooping to the floor any longer. I cannot get out of the ropes forcing me and binding me to the wall. I cannot escape the intense heat of the flames as it slowly creeps to me. I want to scream, ever so badly, but there is no use.

The newborn flames licked the oxygen with their wrath and fury. Refusing to be contained, they danced orange and yellow reaching hungrily for fuel. My fingertips charcoaled, blackening the lines weaving and swirling throughout my hand like an unfinished drawing. The monster of red, orange, and yellow suddenly died out; its life compositing into nothing but deathlike grayness that floated in the smoky air. Bewilderment grazed my face, as I gasped. Air was thick with wisps of silver grey smoke curling and dancing their way through the haziness. Sweat lingered in the air, as I felt almost suffocated.

Black plumes of smoke rise above the Florida Everglades. The sharp sawgrass blades burn in ragged lines toward the islands of trees. The smell of the air alone is enough to break Maggie's heart, but she's seen this before. Under the layer of water the roots are protected, the sawgrass will grow back. It is the wildlife she worries about, the birds and even the alligators. At the window her hands clasp the curtains, winding them around her hand until there is no more fabric in reach.